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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27431806">The Last Laugh</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akiko_Natsuko/pseuds/Akiko_Natsuko'>Akiko_Natsuko</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood, Blood and Gore, Blood and Torture, Blood and Violence, Elinguation, Forced Mutism, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Missions Gone Wrong, Torture, Whumptober, Whumptober 2020</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:56:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,911</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27431806</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akiko_Natsuko/pseuds/Akiko_Natsuko</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>That tongue of yours is as much a weapon as a menace, Tseng had told him once, and while it hadn’t been a compliment as it had come on the tail end of a lecture, Reno had taken it to heart, and right now he needed what weapons he had.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Last Laugh</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Inspired by this <a href="https://twitter.com/Maegraeth/status/1319962767156301825">fantastic art</a> by Maegraeth</p><p>Please note that if you want to talk to me about my fics and writing, or anime/shows/games in general then you can now find me on discord  <a href="https://discord.gg/vxTVpefYyB">The Unholy Trinity</a>.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>   </p><p>    Reno doesn’t fight this time as they drag him out of the room where they’d been keeping them, he also doesn’t help, making his body limp, hanging like a dead weight between the two men who had taken far too much delight in catching him with booted toes and bruising fingers as they’d untied him. Keeps his head bowed to hide his grin as they complain, dragging him along. It’s less than dignified, but it’s a means to an end as it slows them down, gives him time to try and make sense of his surroundings. The cloth around his eyes, bound so tightly that it’s given him a headache is a hindrance, but he’s worked with less before, and his other senses are working fine.</p><p>    Wherever they are it’s big, the sounds they’re making – muffled grunts from the effort, his feet dragging on a metal floor – echoing, and his eyebrows rise. So, he’s not where they’d caught him then. That’s a little disconcerting because he hadn’t thought he’d been out long after they’d got the drop of him, and he adjusts his estimate of when the others will find him if he can’t get out of this little predicament by himself. There’s also acrid scent in the air, one that burns his nose, and he breathes deeply through his nose, ignoring the sting of it as he tries to identify it. Chemicals, he decides, only to double over as a fist is slammed into his stomach, driving the air out of him, and adding another throbbing pain to his already battered body.</p><p>“Start walking,” the one on his left barks and Reno’s lips quirk into a smirk. So, they’re not buying it anymore. That’s fine because they’d moved closer to hit him, loosening their grip on him, and while his arms are still twisted behind him and bound so tightly that he can feel the wire cutting into his skin, it’s an opportunity, and he’s never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth.</p><p>“I would love to,” he drawls, managing not to wheeze too badly, and he makes a show of trying to straighten, and the wince and groan are only partly theatrical. Maybe, this time he will take Tseng up on the chance for some R &amp; R, especially as his bosses’ claim that this was a simple, routine follow up of some information that had come through about suspicious movements mocked him with every painful breath he took. A nice holiday… oh, who was he kidding he wondered, as he lunged, driving his elbow into the speaker's side, already knowing that he would be back in the field as soon as he could escape medical. It didn’t mean he wouldn’t say it though, felt that he was entitled to at least a few minutes of complaining as his body protested the impact as the man stumbled back with a curse, releasing him completely.</p><p>    They hadn’t expected him this time, which was almost a relief. They had been prepared for him when they’d caught him, leading him into a narrow space where his speed and ranged attacks had been all but negated, and evening the battlefield far more than he cared to admit, and they’d had the element of surprise, not that he’d admit that aloud. Now, though he could hear them cursing and then the crackle of a radio. Reinforcements? He moved, trusting his ears to guide him, and that their desire to keep him under control would keep them within range, as he twisted and drove his head back, feeling the second man’s nose break under the impact and baring his teeth in a grin at the howl of pain. He didn’t let go though, and Reno whistled impressed, before ducking as he felt muscles tense, and felt the arm that swept through where his head had been, driving his shoulder into the man’s chest, wishing that he had his arms free.</p><p>      The blow staggers his captor though, loosens his grip, and Reno keeps moving, tears himself free and drops, spinning out his foot and hitting air as the man recovers faster than he’d expected. Whoever, this group is they’re good, and prepared, as they’d clearly known the Turks would come looking. Either that, or they were the most adaptive group he’d ever stumbled across, but he doubted it, they were too slick and too confident as he sensed them moving in on him again. Admittedly, he was at a disadvantage, but anyone with an idea of who the Turks were would know that didn’t mean anything, and yet he could feel them circling him, and he tilted his head with a smirk.</p><p>“Are we dancing?” He asks, deliberately mocking. <em>That tongue of yours is as much a weapon as a menace,</em> Tseng had told him once, and while it hadn’t been a compliment as it had come on the tail end of a lecture, Reno had taken it to heart, and right now he needed what weapons he had. “Come on Ladies,” he goaded, as they continued to circle. He needed them in close, testing the bonds and hiding a grimace as all he succeeded in doing was driving them deeper into his skin. <em>They definitely knew what they were doing,</em> he thought, but they had also reacted to his words, lunging towards him, hoping no doubt to pin them between him. Reno danced back out of the way at the last moment, laughing as he heard them crash into one another. “Maybe, we shouldn’t. as it sounds like you have two left feet…”  There’s a muffled snarl, and he notes it – quick to anger – and twists out of the way just in time, a fist grazing his cheek and catching his ear. “Oh, do we have a contender?” He asks, using his voice to distract even as he listens. Laboured breathing, more from anger than anything else he thinks, heavy footsteps in the distance – that’s bad news – and the rasp of material just to the… Left.</p><p>   Reno ducked, feeling an arm whistle by overhead, rustling his hair and spins again, driving his foot into a knee with as much speed and force as he can manage. A strangled cry greets the attack, and the man stumbles and topples forward, and this time he is a split second slow, distracted by the sound of something hard and metallic hitting flesh behind him, and the man crashes into him, the weight knocking him to the ground. They hit the ground hard, the man’s weight on top of him and Reno gasps, feels fire in his ribs, not the kind that warms, but one that makes him burn cold, breath hitching and catching, and he tastes blood. Feels a matching flare of agony in his wrists, as their combined weight presses the bindings further into his skin. He has seconds to register the pain, to adjust his odds – and not liking them – and to realise that he can see again, the cloth over his eyes had shifted a little, just enough to grant him a sliver of the world.</p><p>Enough to see the other man looming over him, and the metal pipe in his hands.</p><p>“That’s not fair,” he manages to rasp, tasting more blood before silver-grey filled his vision and the other aches and pains disappeared, as a sickening fire erupts in the side of his head, snapping it to the side. He thinks he shouts, or maybe it is a scream, the sound torn from his lips against his will, and he’s teetering on the verge of darkness, shadows closing in as he sees boots approach. A laugh catching in the back of his throat, as the pipe was pressed under his chin, tilting his head back. “Next time,” he promises, sees the anger and the curling lip before the darkness sweeps in.</p><p>**</p><p>    He’s not been out for long, the burn of his injuries still too fresh, when he’s brought spluttering and gasping back to consciousness as water is dumped over his head. “I don’t think much of your hospitality,” he says, before he’s fully awake, voice raspy, as he tries to take stock of his situation. He’s sitting on something hard, and as he shifts, testing his ability to move, he can tell he’s bound hand and foot to… a chair? Or something similar, although it doesn’t move with him. <em>Fixed? </em>He wondered. Adding that to his growing certainty that he or at least the Turks had been expected, rather than this group working on the fly.</p><p>    He can’t see again, the cloth replaced over his eyes, and tied tighter this time, and as he shifts, he can feel it pull on his hair. A minor discomfort compared to everything else, but it’s another pain to add the medley. “The shower facilities, in particular, are lacking,” he adds, as more water is dumped over his head. Spluttering and shaking his head like a dog, only to realise that was a terrible mistake as the throbbing in his head surges to the front and for a moment that’s all he can focus on because it hurts. Pounding in time with each ragged breath, echoed by a sharp flare of pain in his ribs, and he’s recalculating the odds again and not liking them.</p><p>
  <em>Rude, partner… now would be a really good time to show up.</em>
</p><p>   A slap drags him back to the present and makes him groan, head spinning from the impact and for a moment he wonders if he’s going to throw up and if he can hit at least one of them, trying to locate them through the pounding in his head. The urge passes, the nausea doesn’t, simmering beneath the surface and he tenses as he senses movement in front of him, not sure he can take another blow to the head right now. Can’t quite stop himself twitching, just shy of a flinch as rough fingers grip his chin, and rank breath fills his face and his lips curls.</p><p>“I was hoping that you would try something.” It’s the man who had interrupted his meeting with the informant, and now Reno notes the edge of command in his voice. It’s different from Tseng and Rufus, rougher, laden with the promise of violence and rough with anger. That’s something he can use. Anger makes people careless, and Reno is good at making people angry, he just wished that he could trust himself not to throw up while doing it.</p><p>“So, glad I could oblige you…” Reno drawls, testing the waters, both of his voice and his captors’ temper. He doesn’t vomit, so that’s one victory, and the fingers on his chin tighten, turn bruising. <em>Oh, are you that easy to rile?</em> Anticipation pools in his stomach and he almost misses the tensing before the grip disappears, and it’s not enough warning for him to brace before he takes a flurry of blows to the face. Each one strong enough to snap his head from side to side, and he’s reeling, each punch exacerbating his previous injury until he’s not sure which way is up or down anymore,  and he can taste blood again as the assault ends with a backhand that snaps his head back. The darkness looms in the back of his mind, and he bites the inside of his cheek, the sharp pain against the backdrop of agony anchoring him to the present, and he forces his head up, not liking how much effort it takes to hold it upright.</p><p>“Is that all you’ve got?” He demands, teeth bared in a bloody grin.</p><p>“Not at all.” He doesn’t like that tone. It’s too calm, the previous undercurrent of anger barely audible anymore, and he tries not to frown. Calmness was dangerous, it hid far too much. Tseng was a constant masterclass in that, and Reno was tense as he heard the man circling him, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. He feels exposed, vulnerable, and he doesn’t like it. Misses the weight of his weapon, but not as much as the freedom to move so that he at least stood a chance of defending himself, and his fingers curled, clutching at the arms of the chair, testing the bonds even though he already knew they wouldn’t budge. “That was just repayment for my men that you injured.”</p><p>“Didn’t trust them to do it themselves?” Reno mocked, and hissed as a hand shot out and grabbed a fistful of his hair, dragging his head back at an uncomfortable angle, it hurt, and he braced, waiting for another slap or worse. Shivering when there was a chuckle against his ear.</p><p>“I’m sure they’d be delighted too,” the man purred, dark amusement colouring his words. “But, it’s a bit beyond them now.”</p><p>    Reno stilled at that, not that he’d been able to move much anyway. <em>Beyond them…</em> His skin is crawling, anticipation becoming dread, as his mind is clearing enough to become aware of more, his other senses kicking into overdrive with his eyes covered. They’re not alone, he can hear at least two others nearby, shifting nervously, their breathing a little too fast – panicked, frightened. But, it’s the smell that bothers him, not the acrid chemical smell that seems weaker here, but the stench of iron and death, and other worse smells that had him holding his breath and refusing to put a name to them. <em>Well shit,</em> he thinks, biting his lip, and struggling to keep his expression as even as possible. This changed things, and not in a good way. “Quite a retirement plan you have going…” He hears himself say before he can even think about what he’s doing. He’s trapped, restrained and injured, the only weapon he has is his tongue right now, and he’s not even sure that’s going to be enough.</p><p>“Are the Turks any better?” Confirmation at least that they know exactly who and what he is, and its engagement and Reno can work with that, forcing a smile onto his face and trying to breathe through his mouth.</p><p>“I can’t speak for everyone, but mine involves tropical islands, those drinks with umbrellas in them, and seeing your ass in jail,” he replied, the smile becoming a little more real with each word. It’s a lie, of course. Retirement and the Turks don’t really go hand in hand, and if he’s honest, he’s never given more than a passing thought to what could come after…if he even got an after. He also knows that jail isn’t in his captor’s future and that at least gives him a spark of real humour, even if he might not get to see it himself. The fingers in his hair tighten, painfully so, and then he’s being released, but not without a cuff to the spot that he had been trying to ignore, where he can feel blood matting his hair, and for a moment his mind whites out.</p><p>    When he drags himself back to the present, it’s to the feel of cold metal pressed lightly against his cheek, not enough to draw blood, at least yet. He clings to that sensation for focus but doesn’t mind it or the threat that it poses, that kind of pain he knows. If they think that will make him talk, then they’re in for a disappointment, not that he had any intention of talking anyway, or at least not about anything they wanted to hear. “You’re a bit of a talker, aren’t you?” The blade tapped against his cheek, and there’s a thin edge to the man’s voice again, and Reno grins and would have winked if it had been visible.</p><p>“Oh, you’re one of those are you?” He asks, licking his lips, and tilting his head towards the voice and the blade waiting for it to break the skin but it didn’t, and he pouted at the man. “Shouldn’t you wine and dine me first through?” <em>Oh, that struck a nerve,</em> he thought, feeling the blade jerk a little. Mercifully away from his skin, and then it disappeared completely, and he held his breath, and released it in a rush as he felt it slice into his torso, a shallow line just above his waistline. “Hey, watch the merchandise,” he protested, a little breathless and grunted as that earned him another cut, just above the other.</p><p>“I’d heard about your wicked tongue.” The blade was back against his face, tapping his lips and Reno bit back the urge to speak, instead focusing on the words. <em>You heard?</em> It wouldn’t be the first time he’d faced someone who knew about the Turks, or even about him personally, but that seemed a little too personal. <em>Where has he been getting his information? And who are they?</em> The information had been about the movement of people, not whatever the hell this was, and he wished that he could place the chemical smell, but he wasn’t about to take a sniff with the other scents heavy in the air. “I’m even quite happy to hear what you have to say little snake.” <em>Okay, now that was just uncalled for,</em> Reno thought and scowled, wishing that he could see if only so he could glare at him properly. “But only as you answer my questions.”</p><p>
  <em>Well, that’s no fun…</em>
</p><p>     There was a pause, and Reno realised that he was waiting for a reply. He wanted to make a quip or retort, but the blade was on his lips again, and he did have some sense of self-preservation even in a situation where preservation seemed unlikely, and so he settled for nodding. A tiny jerk of his head. He sensed the man’s surprise and disappointment and bit back a grin. Just because he’d agreed, didn’t mean the man was going to like his answers, especially as Reno had no intention of giving him any.</p><p>“Why were you investigating us?” The blade disappeared, and Reno weighed his options because the truth might be the better weapon here, as reluctant as he was to give them anything.</p><p>“I wasn’t,” he said simply and jerked as the blade sliced his abdomen again.</p><p>“Don’t lie to me.”</p><p>“I wasn’t,” Reno retorted, catching the snarl beneath the intake of breath. “We don’t deal with small fry like you,” he added with a mocking laugh, pouring as much disdain into his voice as he could manage with the fresh pain merging with the pounding in his head and the burn of his existing wounds. He hurt, wanted nothing more than a potion, a comfy bed and the fussing of medical staff, but forced himself to remain focused because there was a stillness in the air. <em>Stuck another nerve, </em>he thought, ignoring the small voice in the back of his mind that sounded like Tseng that was telling him he was talking himself into a situation he couldn’t get out of. “Scum that treats their own like you do,” he added, tilting his head towards where his best guess at where the bodies of his previous tormenters lay. “Aren’t something we care about, and far beneath our interest.” Not a lie exactly, they didn’t tend to deal with minor groups unless they infringed on Shinra interests, but he had a feeling he had stumbled onto something bigger than intended. He also had a feeling, that this man, with his information sources and success so far, had a more inflated view of how important they were.</p><p>In fact, he was counting on it.</p><p>    The silence stretched on, and it wasn’t a pleasant one. Reno fought the urge to squirm, he had never been big on silence, but he didn’t want to speak again until he knew for sure his words had hit the mark, needed a reaction so that he could adjust his strategy – he almost snorted at calling it that. <em> Don’t tell me that was all it took,</em> he thought as the seconds crept by into minutes without a response, not sure whether he was disappointed or relieved, and almost giddy with it, although maybe that was the pain or…</p><p>    Finally, there was movement, and he stiffened as he heard the others who had remained silent until now moving to stand either side him. Had they been beckoned? He wondered, cursing the fact that he was literally in the dark here, only to find himself blinded a moment later as the cloth that had covered his eyes was wrenched up and off, taking a chunk of hair with it from the feel of it. He reeled for a moment. The light wasn’t fantastic in here, but after so long in the dark, it was still too much, and his eyes watered as he blinked, trying to adjust and clear his vision. It took him a minute to clear it enough to focus on the man looming in front of him once more, although there were still black spots around the edges, and he wasn’t sure if that was from the light or the blows to the head. Not that it really mattered, he fought, fighting the urge to swallow as he lifted his eyes to meet the dark gaze focused on him, the malevolence there sending a shiver down his spine.</p><p>“Hold him,” the man ordered and Reno didn’t like the sound of that, especially as he already couldn’t move, but he couldn’t do much as the men on either side of him reached out, not taking his shoulders as he had expected, but securing his head and holding it in place. It didn’t stop him trying to wrench his head free, especially as he finally caught a glimpse of the men he must’ve fought earlier. One of the bodies sporting a broken nose from that encounter, bloodied and piled off to the side as though they were nothing, empty eyes boring into his and he dragged his gaze away. His attention snapping back to his tormentor as he barked another command. “Open his mouth.”</p><p>     Reno definitely didn’t like the sound of that, and he clenched his jaw shut as he felt rough fingers pushing into the hinges of his jaw, trying to force his mouth open. His defiance earned him laughter. “Not so eager to talk now, are you?” He couldn’t reply, but he could glare now and did with as much vehemence as he could summon, which earned more laughter, followed by a snarled command. “Get his mouth open now!” They had to be leaving bruises he thought, somewhat dizzy as their efforts intensified, desperate fear fuelling them, but Reno was nothing if not stubborn and he kept his mouth closed. Gagging as he was forced to breathe through his nose now, unable to escape the stench in the air, and the momentary distraction cost him, as the man on the left shifted and drove a fist into his gut. He couldn’t dodge, couldn’t do anything as the breath was driven from him, and he couldn’t stop his mouth from falling open as he instinctively tried to gulp in a breath, and that was all they’d needed, forcing fingers in between his teeth and wrenching his mouth as wide as possible. He tried to buck free, to bite, but they had hold of him now, and he writhed fruitlessly between them, the pounding in his aching head, now matched by the hammering of his heart as he heard heavy footsteps approaching.</p><p>“I wonder what people will say when they hear a Turk fell to ‘small fry’.” Oh, Reno had certainly hit a nerve with that one, only now he wasn’t sure that was such a good thing. “Not, that they will get to hear it from you little Snake.”</p><p>    Reno’s eyes were now locked on the blade, a nasty looking, slightly curved blade that was already covered in his blood and moving towards him once more. His efforts to yank his head free intensifying, but there was no give, the men holding his mouth open clinging on for dear life, and he couldn’t really blame them, as the price of failure was right in front of them. It didn’t stop him from mumbling curses at them, at least until his chin was taken in a bruising grip once more, putting an end to his efforts, and forcing him to look up into the malevolent stare. “I would stay as still as possible,” the man murmured, almost managing to sound casual, as though he was telling Reno to carry an umbrella because it was raining, and Reno froze. “You know,” the man continued, just as casual, calm despite the look in his eyes. “I might have ignored your words, those slippery, mocking words of yours.” Reno swallowed, the words accompanied by the knife trailing across his lips, the threat silent but looming, and his stomach was tying itself in knots. “But, you were a little too truthful, weren’t you little snake?”</p><p>    Reno blinked at him, the only thing he could manage right now, and the grin that greeted his expression was so malicious, so triumphant that the twisting in his stomach turned to ice. “You weren’t looking for us, which means that they’ll be looking in the wrong place for you. If they would even bother looking for a little snake like you.” That was a cheap blow, and the second part missed its mark because as much as Reno might irritate the others at times, he knew they would come for him and keep looking until they found him. <em>But, will they be in time,</em> he thought because he had talked himself into this moment, unable to argue against the first part even if he’d been able to speak. Still, he gathered himself as much as he could, curled his lip awkwardly and gave his tormentor his best ‘so what?’ look. “Which means, little snake, I have no more questions for you and that wicked tongue of yours is no longer needed.”</p><p>   Reno tried to protest, but he’d barely made a sound before the man moved, the blade nicking his lip as it was forced into his mouth and he gagged on it, his heart a staccato beat in his ears. <em>Rude, now would be a REALLY good time to show up,</em> he thought, but he knew that it was too late as the knife slipped under his tongue and paused, pressing against it, the threat a physical presence stealing his breath as he blinked. “Just remember,” the man whispered, eyes alight with wicked delight. “You talked yourself into this.” The blade jerked upwards, slicing deep into his tongue and Reno was writhing, mindless with pain, thrashing and crying out, his voice a gurgle in the back of his throat as blood flooded his mouth. He was choking on it, drowning in it, and the knife was relentless as it worked, and he could hear laughter somewhere above him.</p><p>Mocking.</p><p>Cruel.</p><p>  Taking wicked delight in his agony and anguish, as tears trickled down his cheeks and blood flooded from his mouth, leaving a sick trail down his chin and throat, and sliding down onto his chest. There was a final, tearing sensation and Reno screamed, head arching back as his tongue severed and then he was really drowning, blood filling his world, choking on it.</p><p>     The knife was gone, but that brought no relief, because rough fingers dove into his mouth, pulling out his tongue before he could choke on it. Then his head was being forced forward, the blood trickling between parted lips as he sobbed and gasped, struggling to breathe. <em>I’m going to die like this, </em>he thought as eyes that he didn’t remember closing flickered open and all he could see was blood. His blood. He could feel it filling his mouth again, his hammering heart betraying him, and he felt dizzy and lightheaded and sick, and he was choking on it, on the tears that slipped down and mixed with the blood, salt against iron.</p><p>    Then the knife was back, the point of it digging into his bloody chin and forcing his head up, and belatedly he realised that the hands holding him in place were gone, and he starred at his tormentor through blurring eyes.</p><p>“Not laughing now, are you…” He almost missed the taunting words through the rushing sound in his ears, and he stifled another pained noise as he stared at the man. <em>That wouldn’t do. </em>Death was one thing, a professional risk he’d called it once, but this was something else and gathering some tendril of strength he didn’t really have, he twisted his lips into a bloody, ghoulish smile and laughed. An awful, gurgling sound that held no mirth, only pain, as he gathered the blood in his mouth. Letting it pool for a moment before he spat, taking a tiny, measure of pleasure in the disgusted noise as he hit his target.</p><p>    Not even regretting it as his head snapped to the side, as he was backhanded again, vision wobbling and going white and then dark. Not quite unconscious, not yet at least. The pain refusing to let him slip under, but he’s close and fading, awareness slipping from him with each drop of blood. Hears cursing, and muttered words rather than the distant sounds of rescue he belatedly realised he’d been waiting for, and as his head sank down against his chest, his lips quirked faintly.</p><p>
  <em>At least I got the last laugh…</em>
</p><p> </p>
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